


The Walls Are Always Speakin'

by crushcandles



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Friends With Benefits, Future Fic, Glory Hole, Kink Exploration, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 06:59:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15813804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushcandles/pseuds/crushcandles
Summary: They’ve talked about it, how it’d go, how hot it’d be. But they’re not just talking about it now.





	The Walls Are Always Speakin'

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t intend to start off here by jumping right into gloryhole porn, but the selfish heart wants what it wants, I guess. Title from [Rich](https://youtu.be/RK8EisJ7Cko) by The Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

They've talked about this. They've talked about it as a place that Billy goes sometimes, once a month, couple of times a month. Same way they talk about the dates Steve goes on every once in a while. Like they're friends, like this is just stuff they do. Like it's a sunny week or there’s a chance of rain.

They've also talked about it in a different way, with the lights off while they hook up on the couch to the sound of the news on TV, or in Billy's bed. What it's like, what it'd be like, how nice and dirty it'd be. Billy doesn't even start it most times. He knows what it's like. He's not the one asking desperate questions while he gets jerked off.

Which makes it a little weird, watching Steve pace around in front of the door, hands fisted in his jacket pockets, and then out of them, rubbing on his thighs. Mid-pace, he stops, looking at Billy imploringly.

"Do I look alright?" he asks. He gestures to himself: his tight jeans, his white t-shirt, his new red bomber jacket. 

Billy, leaning on the arm of the couch, hands in his jacket pockets and staying there, laughs at him. 

"That is literally the least fuckin' important thing here, Harrington. You should be asking me if I think your dick is clean enough. That's a better question."

Steve glares at him, puts a hand on his hip. "I took a shower when I got here."

“You wash real good? Get all squeaky clean for your date tonight?”

Steve glares harder. “Fuck off.”

Billy shrugs, crossing his legs at the ankles. He decides to take that answer for what he knows it means. Harrington’s nervous. “You’re fine.”

Steve rubs at his eye, glancing at the door like it’ll pop open and suck him through whether he likes it or not. 

Billy sighs, shifting on the couch. He uncrosses his ankles and fixes Steve with a look that he doesn’t return.

“Don’t freak out, Harrington. We don’t have to do this right now. We can just do something else.” Go get a beer, go see a movie, hook up here in Billy’s apartment.

Still looking at the door, Steve bites his lip, considering his options. 

"Harrington," Billy says patiently, meaning _come here_. Steve stops watching the door, but just gives Billy his little mistrustful frown instead. Billy finally takes his hand out of his jacket pocket to crook his finger at Harrington.

Steve comes, wiping his palms on his thighs again. He stops just in Billy's reach, not that Billy tries it. He just knows it's true through time. Steve chews his lip a little more, but really looks at Billy this time. He's not frowning, but he's also not the happy camper who takes breaks from biting Billy's pillow to talk about how much he wants to try it.

Billy tucks his hand away again. Far be it from him to stop Harrington from escaping if that's what he wants. He’s not the one who’s got a problem here. Harrington's the one with the problem, and it’s that he thinks too fucking much. Sometimes Billy swears he can literally hear it, like a ticking clock or an overheating engine.

"I can suck you here," he offers. He keeps his voice level, like it's just a thing, like they're friends. It's supposed to be windy later, there's coffee in the kitchen, you don't have to go anywhere to get your dick sucked if it scares you.

Steve looks him over closely, shifting back on his heels and then settling. Billy shrugs again, to prove his point. Steve watches him for a moment more, loudly thinking it over, and then he wrinkles his nose, rubbing it decisively.

"What," he says, bluffing, "like I drove all the way from Indianapolis just for _you_ to suck my dick?"

Billy snorts, rolling his eyes. "You really know how to make a guy feel special, Harrington."

"What," Steve says again. "You're not special." He says that but he's finally smiling, pushing at Billy's shoulder. If he’s capable of teasing, then maybe he won’t run from this, will remember he’s the one who’s been asking for it.

Billy finally gets off the creaky arm of the couch, shoving Steve back toward the door. Steve laughs.

"That's all I am to you," Billy says, faking hurt, "just a random mouth to stuff your dick into. Doesn't matter who I am, as long as I suck hard, maybe lick your balls."

Steve looks back over his shoulder sharply, not laughing anymore. A blotchy blush rises on his jaw. Billy gets closer to Steve, gets him in his reach. Steve blinks twice, staying still as Billy's arm slides between his elbow and his waist.

"Right?" Billy prompts him, hand turning the doorknob.

"Right," Steve agrees absently, still looking, still blushing.

*

They take the L. It’s almost eleven pm, so it’s not really busy, but they stand up in the middle of the car anyway, hands holding the pole above them. Swaying loosely on his heels, Steve looks out the window, caught up in the motion and the rush of Chicago’s lights. 

Steve's the only person Billy knows who really likes taking the L. He seems to find it soothing. Usually, he talks Billy's ear off about all kind of bullshit: his job, his parents, the friends he has in Indianapolis, his beer basketball league. The list goes on. But put him on the train and he might as well be drugged up, he goes so quiet.

Billy hasn't bothered to ask him about it. It's probably just nice to just get taken somewhere, no questions asked. All you have to do is get on and off again. Of course, it's nice for Harrington because he only takes it maybe a couple of times a month. He doesn't have to go to work or the grocery store or any of the things Billy or anyone else who lives here has to do. He gets to relax and enjoy the ride, as long as he trusts Billy to take him somewhere good.

Billy looks at the window too, but he’s not looking at the skyline. He’s looking at Steve, his reflection. The look on Steve’s face is empty, content. He's leaning on his own arm that's braced on the handhold above them, his other hand brushing against Billy's thigh as the train moves. His breathing is calm, all his nervousness on hold for a minute.

Steve's summer-skinny, lean under his open jacket, his arms and legs long as hell in the reflection. He wears his hair a little shorter now than he used to, a concession to his shitty office job, but there’s a couple of pieces that have enough length to be sticking straight up, waving back and forth every time he moves. 

He just had his birthday last month, June. Twenty-two. If you didn't look closely, you'd still believe he's eighteen, nineteen. He gets carded all the time, never stops complaining about people telling him he has a baby face, which he denies up and down. His face looks the same to Billy, although he’s been looking at it often enough that maybe he can’t tell any different. 

Still staring out the window, Steve sighs loosely, rubbing his cheek on his raised bicep to scratch an itch before settling again. In his reflection, smeared with lights, Steve looks good, as hot as he always has. Not that the look of his face or his body matters, where they're going, but Billy likes to look at him anyway. 

*

The place they’re going doesn’t look like much, but it’s not supposed to. Scuffed-up doorway, dirty brick, no sign to be seen. Billy’s not even sure it has a name. He learned about it from some guy in a bar who had grabbed his ass and asked him if he liked fun.

Steve doesn’t like fun as much as Billy does, so he’s frowning at the door.

“It’s cool, Harrington,” Billy tells him, reaching for the handle. Harrington’s quiet easy mood had lasted until they turned onto this street, and then his nerves came back full force. But he’s here, even if he’s busy being judgmental. 

“It looks abandoned,” Steve mutters, but he lets himself be ushered into the dim hallway. Billy watches him squint at the end, where there’s a man sitting behind bulletproof glass. On either side of the booth are stairways, one leading up, one down.

Steve follows Billy, squinting the whole way.

The guy in the booth looks up from his book as they approach. It’s the same broad, bald motherfucker Billy sees in here every time he comes. He’s just sitting in this booth all the time, but he looks tough enough that Billy wouldn’t fuck with him. Still, his voice is friendly enough when he says, “Gents. Goin’ up or down?”

“Down,” Billy replies, getting his wallet out. This place probably doesn’t officially exist anywhere, so there’s no real prices or anything. It’s by donation only, Billy’s learned, but the donations are more or less mandatory. He gets out twenty bucks. Expensive, but it’s for a good cause.

“What’s _up_?” Steve asks from behind his shoulder.

The guy in the booth leans one elbow on the counter, peering at Steve through the glass. All it takes is one look and he has Harrington all figured out.

“Up’s the advanced class, honey,” he says, tapping his fingers on the cover of his book. It’s _Cujo_.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve says, failing to sound like he knew that. Billy rolls his eyes. Cujo behind the glass watches him do it. He leans in even closer, making a show of checking Steve out.

“You undercover?” he asks Steve, very seriously.

“I,” Steve stammers, “I, uh…”

Billy doesn’t even need to look to elbow Harrington behind him. He’s done it a million times. “Lighten up, idiot.”

“Uh,” Steve says.

Cujo laughs and leans back, taking Billy’s money and secreting it away. “Yeah, lighten up. You’re here for a good time. Your friend’ll be nice to you, won’t he?”

“I doubt it,” Steve says, and Billy elbows him again.

“How you two know each other?”

Billy rolls his eyes again, this time at Cujo. Usually, Billy doesn’t get two words from the guy, but get Harrington in here with his obvious nerves and his baby face and the guy’s dying to chat. He’s probably hoping Harrington will say something like, _we barely do_ with his flirting smile on and then let Cujo fuck him behind the bulletproof glass. 

Instead, Steve says, “Uh. We went to high school together.” Which is true, and easier than saying all the shit about the fights they had, or the long unspoken truce, or the couple of months they spent pretending to be a little friendly before they started hooking up sometimes. All the shit about how now Harrington splits his time in Chicago between Billy’s couch and his bed.

Cujo raises his eyebrows. “Funny place for a reunion.”

Steve, shifting behind Billy’s shoulder, says, “Yeah.”

Billly stares at Cujo, trying to get across that if he wanted to talk he wouldn’t be in a place like this. They have things to do that don’t involve chit-chatting with the nosy front door guy. Cujo finally stops eye-fucking Harrington long enough to notice.

“Alright, already. Go on.” Cujo’s laughing again. He waves them down.

The stairway leading to the downstairs is not well lit, with creaky, scratched wood stairs and a loose railing. To be honest, Billy thinks it'd fit right in a horror movie. Steve crowds so close Billy can feel the heat of his breath.

"This is so creepy," he whispers. "Are you taking me to get murdered?"

Billy laughs a bit, but doesn't elbow him. If he did, one or both of them might fall down the stairs and break a leg which would really fuck up their plans.

It's a little better once they hit the bottom of the staircase, but there’s still not enough light for it to seem very welcoming. Not that there's much to look at. Just a big old shelving unit filled with porno tapes and two hallway of doors. 

They stand there for a minute, Steve looking all around. His hands are rubbing on his thighs again. Billy can practically hear his brain start whirring away. 

"It's uh," Steve puts his hands in his jacket pockets. "Not very sexy. Do people fuck here?"

"Could if you wanted to, I guess. That's more of an upstairs thing though. Down’s for sucking dick and jerking off to porno. I think there's some moldy showers down here. You could fuck in there if you want. I didn’t bring any rubbers though."

Steve takes a hand out of a pocket, scrubs his eyebrow with more vigor than necessary. "You ever fuck in there?"

Billy makes a face. "Hell no, Harrington. I said they were moldy. I have standards."

Steve starts smiling, but it doesn't last long. A guy comes down the stairs and has to walk between them to get to the videos. He gives them both a cool appraising look and Steve's smile goes watery.

They watch the guy pick a video and take it to one of the closest doors with a green UNOCCUPIED under the knob. He doesn't look back at them. Steve puts his hands back in his pockets. His whole body looks tense.

Billy puts his hand on Steve's bicep, squeezing him. 

"We don't have to do this," he says. "I mean it."

Harrington starts, like Billy pushed him. His hands come out again.

"No," he says, pretty forcefully. He touches his jaw. "No. I'm just...nervous?" Like it's not obvious from space. Like this is the very first time Billy’s laying eyes on Steve Harrington and he has no idea what he’s in for.

"Okay," Billy says, meaning _you're okay_. "Just tell me if you wanna go. There's not really any rules here, aside from not killin' anyone and keeping things even, so we can leave whenever."

Steve's eyebrow goes up, interested. He rubs it again, a little gentler. "'Keeping things even'?"

Billy takes a testing step toward the hallway of doors closest to them. Steve follows. 

"Yeah, like, you know." Billy takes another couple of steps. He makes a vague gesture. "Golden rule. If you're gonna get your dick sucked, suck a dick sometimes. Keep it even."

"Oh." Steve blushes, but he's followed Billy to the farthest door down the closest hallway, green for go under the knob. "Do I have to suck a dick?" he asks as Billy opens the door.

Billy nudges him into the room, shuts the door behind them and locks it.

He smiles, feeling warm. Can't help it. Steve's willing to try anything at least once and he’s into plenty of stuff, but he's not the world's most enthusiastic cocksucker. When he wants it, Billy can barely hold him off, but he only wants it when he wants it. Not that Billy gives a shit. He likes sucking cock enough for both of them.

"Nah, I got you. Told you you don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I'll just suck two dicks the next time I'm here." He flicks on the light in the room just in time to see Steve's mouth going smooth with relief. It’s a much better sight than Harrington’s mouth all pinched up with nerves.

The word _room_ is generous for where they are. It’s the size of a handicap stall in a bathroom, with painted black plywood walls and a bare light bulb that keeps all the corners lit up.

Steve glances at all that, but he zeroes in pretty quickly on the hole. It’s in the wall across from the door, the size of both of Billy’s hands stacked one on top of the other, rimmed in black electrical tape to guard against rough edges. It’s nothing new to Billy, looks like all the others he’s seen here, but Steve seems mesmerized by the empty hole. Billy watches his eyes track all over it, tracing the shape, maybe imaging it being used.

He keeps looking at it while he reaches out his fingers to touch a peeling edge of the tape. He picks at it nervously, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Do I just, ah, what am I supposed to do?” he asks. He sounds a little freaked out, but he’s asking Billy, still not heading for the door. 

Billy leans on the wall, giving Harrington his space. “Get your dick out, stick it in the hole, and let some guy suck it.”

Steve does another one of his nervous jolts, pulling his hand back quickly. He looks at the hole, then at Billy, then at the hole again. He touches his belt, then rubs his hand on his thigh. His dick is clearly not hard at all. 

He swallows audibly. 

Taking pity, Billy pushes himself off the wall. “Harrington,” he says it low and quiet, in case the thing that pushes Steve over the edge is how someone in a gay hook-up place three hours away from just about everyone he knows might recognize him based on hearing his last name. “Harrington, c’mere.”

The direct order seems to touch some sensible part of Steve because he tears his eyes away from the hole and comes. He gets in Billy’s reach, close enough for Billy to catch him by the nape, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Billy takes it easy on Harrington to start. Just kisses his round bottom lip lightly, hand on his neck. Takes a couple of breaths with him until he relaxes a little. Then he kisses Steve again, more normally. The way they've kissed a hundred times, with intent.

He doesn't get pushy though, can feel how stiff Harrington still is against him, like something bad might happen to him if he lets his guard down. So he doles out a couple more easy kisses, just lips, softening Harrington up. He moves his hand from Harrington's neck into his hair and cups his hip, holding him lightly. If Steve moves, Billy'll let him go, no sweat.

Instead, Steve sighs, opening his mouth. He gets his hands on Billy too, his arm, the side of his jacket, and holds on. He gives Billy the slickness of his tongue and Billy sucks on it, which gets Harrington jolting again, but in a good way. Billy knows he likes that, wants to remind him what they're here for. Steve moans into his mouth, which is as much of a go as a green sign on a door.

They keep kissing, deeper now but still slow. They don’t have to rush. Billy doesn't give a fuck about disappointing any cocksucker waiting on the other side of the wall. He'll suck three dicks if he has to. Kissing Harrington, getting him warmed up and curling into Billy’s body, has never been a waste of Billy’s time.

It's a good sign when he runs some fingers behind the waistband of Steve's jeans and Steve just exhales instead of jumping back. He's still not hard, but that's okay. Billy can fix that. 

Harrington moves his hips obligingly when Billy undoes his belt one-handed, and moans a little when Billy kisses his neck and thumbs open his button, gets his zipper down. 

His cock is a soft curl in Billy's hand, so Billy cups it gently. It’s generally hard when Billy’s got his hands on it, but it's nice like this too, warm and silky. 

Billy leaves a lingering kiss on Steve's pulse, scratches his free fingers over Steve's scalp.

"You gonna get hard for me?" he asks. Usually that does it. Harrington’s chattiness isn’t just reserved for dumb bullshit; it extends to this too. It makes it real easy to turn him on. All you need to do is just sweet-talk him a little, make him feel special. This time, there's a mild twitch under Billy's palms, but that's it.

"I," Steve sighs. His shoulders pull up a bit and Billy imagines hearing the scrabbling of his brain firing up again. 

That won’t do, so Billy licks Steve’s throat to cut off the thought. Steve takes a quick breath under Billy’s mouth, going quiet and still.

"Your cock is so pretty," Billy murmurs, meaning it. "Everyone wants to see it. And your come tastes so good. Anyone'd be lucky to have it."

Steve shivers, whole-body, and Billy feels Steve’s dick lift into his palm.

Steve moans, "Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm." Billy finds Harrington's mouth again, rubs a hand over him until there isn't enough space for his hand and Steve's dick in Steve's jeans. He eases his hand out, bringing Steve's cock with it. He gives it a couple more strokes before he leaves off to get Steve's tight jeans as far down his thighs as he can without having to stop kissing Harrington.

Steve's distracted enough by the kissing that he helps. Then he's half-bare in the stark light: his long thighs, his t-shirt draped over the root of his hard cock. Billy bites his lip as he gets his hands on Harrington's ass. He squeezes Harrington, bringing him in so their bodies are pressed together. Billy rubs on him, can't help it. He didn’t have a problem getting hard, has been hard since he locked them in here, hard on and off all day at work, waiting for Harrington to show up. Feels like he's been hard since Steve called him last week to say he was coming, saying _Yeah, yeah, I thought maybe we could, uh, you could take me to the place you go_ all in a hot rush.

Steve grabs the collar of Billy's jacket in both hands, jerking him back just enough that he can get his mouth on Billy's neck. Billy obliges him, squeezes his ass again. He looks at the hole while Steve kisses below his ear, grits his teeth against the beat of arousal in his belly. Harrington knows what he likes too.

"Harrington," he says before he goes crazy. "Harrington." He has to stop groping Steve to pull him back by his shoulder. Steve's mouth is damp and his eyes are big and dark, even in the unshaded light. 

Billy presses his thumb into Steve's shoulder, gets his other hand on Steve's waist. "You ready?"

Steve's mouth opens and he nods quickly. He lets Billy push him backwards, shuffling awkwardly with his jeans around his knees.

"What," he stops, swallows and licks his lips, "what do I do?" He doesn't sound nervous now. He sounds the way he sounds when he’s in Billy’s bed with his hand down his pants, asking Billy to tell him about it. He licks his lips again, looking at Billy’s face.

Billy smiles, turning Steve around to face the hole. "Stick your dick through the hole and wait for someone to suck it."

Steve laughs, which is great to hear, but even better is him choking on it when Billy drops down to pull his jeans and underwear to his ankles and bites the flare of his hipbone for good measure. He stays there, a foot from the hole, until Billy gets back up and puts a hand on the hot small of his back.

Billy gets his other hand on Steve's cock. "Here," he says, guiding. Steve's caught between his hands, but he doesn't try to get away, just moves with Billy, lets Billy help him put his dick and balls through the hole. Billy slips his hand out of the hole, but pushes at Steve's back with the other until he's pressed flush against the plywood at the hips.

The sight is incredible, better than Billy imagined. Steve’s still in his white t-shirt and his new red jacket, his jeans bunched around his sneakers, his thighs up against the scratchy wall, his face flush with anticipation. Nothing's even happened yet but still Billy rubs his dick through his own jeans, shifting on his feet, hot for it. 

Steve watches him, his own hands useless by his hips. The fingers on his left hand keep brushing his own thigh, not sure where to go.

“What do I do?” Steve asks again. Billy closes his eyes, listening to heavy footfalls on the other side of the hallway. He crowds close to Steve, close enough Steve’s fidgeting fingers brush his cock.

“Just wait,” he says, hearing the door on the other side of the hole creak open. He doesn’t know if Harrington hears it because he doesn’t know what to listen for, but Billy knows it; his dick jerks at the sound. 

Harrington might not know the sound of the door, but he sure as shit recognizes the sound of someone shuffling around on the other side of the wall. He catches Billy's look and then pinches his own eyes shut when the strangers' knees hit the floor.

"I-" he gets out, and then he takes a big breath. Another.

Billy strains toward Harrington, pressing against his side. He listens carefully, but it's too quiet.

"What's happening?" he asks, keeping his voice low so no one gets spooked.

Steve takes another deep breath, opens his eyes again. He swallows roughly. "He's, they, he's licking me."

Billy can picture it: male face, but the features are unimportant. What matters is the broad tongue licking Harrington's hard cock, the shaft, the round head, getting him primed so he can-

Steve inhales hard through his nose. His uneven fingernails catch on Billy's jeans. He looks down reflexively, but he's pressed too close to the wall. There's nothing to see but his own shirt. 

"He sucking you?" Billy asks, keeping his eyes on Steve’s face, the surprise of his pleasure. Billy’s dick gives an achy twitch at the sight of it.

"Yeah." Steve shifts his balance, planting his feet so he can take it. Billy tries to get a little closer without upsetting him. He wishes he could take a step back so he could see the whole pretty picture, but without moving away from the tight line of Harrington's hot body. 

This time, he settles for being close. He wants to see the little fleeting expressions on Harrington's face, hear the slow sound of sucking from the other side of the wall. 

Harrington stays quiet for a while. He usually does whenever he tries something new, overwhelmed with sensation, figuring out how much he likes it. He just keeps breathing through his open mouth, scratching his fingers over the plywood and Billy's thigh. 

Billy breathes with him. He keeps quiet even though he knows exactly how much he likes it, has to concentrate over the loud pounding of his blood. He knows what Harrington looks like when he's getting sucked off, has been doing it to him for damn near three years, but he's never been this close to his face while it's happening. He's never watched him chew on his lip and lick it like this, never really seen the wrinkle between his eyebrows get deeper as he gets sucked, never heard the sounds of sucking the way Harrington hears them. 

When Billy puts a hand high up on the smooth back of his thigh, fingertips touching the heat between his legs, Steve finally moans a little, jolting between Billy's hand and the wall. He turns his head, cheek almost pressed to the plywood, and sucks his lip into his mouth. He tries to arch a little into Billy's hand without having to give up any ground to the mouth on him.

Billy doesn't ask if he wants it. He knows. Harrington just about always wants something in his ass. 

He gets his hand higher, where Harrington's _really_ hot, rubbing his knuckle over Steve's asshole, a slow back-and-forth that makes Harrington clench up under Billy’s touch. 

Harrington grunts. Billy hears a quick _suck-suck-suck_ and Steve's asshole works again.

Harrington looks pained. “I’m – I’m gonna come,” he whimpers. 

Billy lifts his hand off Steve like he's burning.

"Uh-uh," he says, sharper than he means to. "No, you're not. Not yet."

Harrington's mouth drops open, his eyebrows furrowing. Billy gets a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back from the wall. He hears the stuttered suck as the guy on the other side of the wall is forced to let Harrington's cock go and watches the bright red tip of Steve's cock drag over the electrical tape as it comes back through the hole.

Steve winces, hips twitching back.

"Sorry," Billy tells him gently, "sorry." He presses his thumb against the tip in absence of a kiss, but is careful not to linger. Steve's cock is wet with the guy’s spit, shiny all the way down, a couple of trails down his balls, in the crease of his thigh. It bobs in the air. Steve shivers.

"Just relax," Billy tells him. "We're not done with you yet. Deep breath."

Steve has to take one, and then another, before he can look Billy in the face. He looks a little calmer when he does.

The guy on the other side of the hole huffs impatiently. To keep him from getting upset, Billy sticks a couple of fingers through the hole. The guy sucks them, no hesitation, just deep pulls, twisting on the descent to Billy's knuckles.

"Shit." No wonder Harrington was ready to pop so soon. Each suck on his fingers echoes through Billy’s whole body.

"Yeah," Steve says, smiling at the dumb look on Billy's face. "S'good, huh?"

"Mmm." The guy licks the pads of Billy's fingers, uses the tip of his tongue the way you do under the head. Billy briefly considers interrupting Harrington's first anonymous suckjob experience to get his own dick sucked, but that would make Billy feel even more selfish than he feels now, getting to see this. Billy can get his dick sucked whenever he wants, but the guy behind the hole only gets this one shot at Harrington's dick.

"Harrington," Billy manages after a few more seconds of vicious suction. He means _get back here_ , which Steve understands, leaning in. They kiss roughly, Billy's forearm between them, Steve's cock rubbing on it.

"Y'good?" Billy mutters into Steve's mouth after a minute.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I'm okay. I won't come."

Billy tugs to get free. His fingers come out of the hole slippery, with that tight, numb feeling from the suction. 

He knocks a dry knuckle on the plywood. 

"Take it easy on him," he says, voice raised to be heard.

A knuckle knocks back. Billy doesn't know if it's meant to be insolent or understanding. Either way, Harrington guides his cock back through the hole. Billy waits for his face to screw up again, since Harrington loves being edged, but he's terrible at it, always comes too soon. He'd wanted to hook up when he'd gotten into town, but Billy hadn't let him get it, had wanted to save that energy for now. So he won’t be surprised if Harrington doesn’t last.

Instead, after a few seconds, Steve's face goes soft.

Billy touches the side of his neck, thumbs at his hairline.

“He’s licking me,” Harrington supplies without prompting. He doesn't close his mouth after he says it, just tongues the inside of his lip as he tilts his chin back. He's comfortable now, not nervous and not on the edge anymore, just feeling good. After a few seconds, he sighs, leaning his weight into his hips against the wall. 

Billy drops a hand to himself, rubs the heel of his hand slowly over his cock. Harrington doesn't pay him any attention, focused on his own dick. Billy doesn’t blame him. He feels too big and hot for his skin. He wants so badly for it to be his turn, whatever that means, but not as badly as he wants to finish watching this.

The licking goes on for long enough that Harrington starts squirming. He doesn’t have the leverage to thrust into the hole, but he keeps pushing against it, nowhere to go, no way to make sure he gets what he wants. 

"Please," he finally says, in the sweet, desperate voice Billy knows.

"Please _what_?" Billy asks him, because the other guy can't.

"Suck me," Harrington near-whispers.

The other guy doesn't say anything, but Billy hears the ragged slurping sound, sees Harrington shudder and push into it.

Billy leans into Harrington, so close he can smell Steve's sweat, track the slide of his Adam's apple in his throat. 

"That all you want?"

"Uh?" Steve answers, eyes flicking to Billy. 

Billy rubs his spit-sticky middle finger against Steve's asshole. 

Steve chokes, goes up on his toes. Billy pushes against him more, gets the very tip inside.

"You want this?" Billy asks, mouth against Steve's banging pulse.

"Yeah," Steve says, greedy.

Billy presses his finger in further. Steve's body pulls at him, but he only goes past the first knuckle. Harrington’s into it, but the spit is already drying and Billy's not looking to give him a rough ride right now. There’s no way Harrington could handle it.

"You want both?" He murmurs, curling the tip of his finger up. "His mouth, my hand?"

"Yes," Steve begs in his desperate voice. He rocks back against Billy's finger, then hard against the wall, trying to have it both ways. On the other side, the cocksucker moans, muffled.

Billy has to close his eyes for just a second, mostly so he can picture the mouth hard at work on Harrington's cock. He's moving fast and sloppy, if the wet noises are telling the story right. Maybe he's trying to fit Harrington into his throat, doing his best with a tough task.

Billy puts his hand against his zipper hard, telling himself to take his own deep breath. He gets in a couple of quick rubs before Harrington’s noises bring him back to focus. 

Harrington is struggling to hold on, looking like it hurts him to try. He's got his palms pressed to the wall so he doesn't go anywhere. As if he could, stuck between Billy’s hand and a stranger’s mouth.

Billy pushes his finger deeper, twisting it. There’s no point in denying Steve again; Billy couldn’t stop him if he wanted to. He feels the clench of Harrington's body around him, the tensing of Harrington's thighs and ass before Harrington moans, sounding frantic: "I'm coming."

His ass pulls rhythmically around Billy’s knuckle as he grinds his hips into the wall, trying to get closer to the mouth around him. Steve moans as he gives it up, says, "I'm coming," again, voice so croaky he loses the end of the word. Beyond the hole, the sucking gets wetter, interrupted by several quick swallows. 

The inside of Harrington's body is so hot Billy feels like he's burning just from that little point of contact. It's always like this if Billy makes Harrington wait for it, whole body wrecker orgasms. Steve's thighs start shaking in the middle of it and he has to press his forehead against the plywood to ground himself. He whimpers while Billy and the guy behind the hole finish working him over from both sides. 

Billy can hear it when the guy finally gets off Harrington's dick, the slick sound of his mouth coming free, his rough breathing. Harrington exhales at the feeling. Billy wonders if Steve's dick feels how Billy's fingers felt, blood-tight and sensitive.

Steve's thighs soften under Billy's wrist and his hole gets softer too, now that's he's done coming. Billy’s careful getting his finger out, but doesn’t go far, putting his hand on Harrington's thigh to feel the aftershocks.

Steve's chin drops, lolling. He swallows twice, empty mouth working. But he doesn’t speak, just tips his head enough to smile at Billy, looking completely wasted and happy about it.

It's awkward with the way they're standing, at crossroads, Steve up against the wall, Billy's hand between his legs. But Billy manages to get his free hand up on Harrington's face to turn it.

Billy leans in, kissing that sloppy smile. He's not trying to be nice now, not at all, too busy licking into Harrington's moaning mouth. He wishes his mouth was all over Harrington, but Steve's mouth is what he has right now, so he takes it until it’s not enough.

He doesn't mean to be so rough, but he still hauls Harrington back from the hole so fast he staggers and Billy has to fist Steve’s jacket to keep him from tripping over his own jeans. He should be more careful, but he’s been waiting so long, and he just wants to see the mess he had a hand in making. 

Steve still looks stunned, mouth wet from Billy's, like maybe he was the one sucking dick through a hole in the wall. His jacket is all fucked up from Billy's hands, his t-shirt rucked up and grey from cheap black paint in spots. He’s going to look so rough on the street, obvious to anyone who knows what to look for. Billy’s dick throbs at the thought.

It’s not only his clothes though. Steve’s thighs, strong from running and basketball, look unstable without the wall to hold him up and his belly is busy with his wild breathing. His cock is still hard, red all over now, frothy spit in his pubes around the base. 

Billy doesn't have the wall to hold him up either as he’s clumsily undoes his jeans, shoving them down. The feeling when he gets his cock free from the pressure of his zipper is such a relief it hurts. He replaces it with the hard pressure of his hand, hips already screwing forward. He moans harshly.

Harrington watches him jerk off, his eyes still dark, half-shut. He starts chewing on his lip again, but he's not nervous, not looking at Billy's cock like that.

Billy doesn't draw it out, can't. When Steve extends a hand to him Billy moves into it automatically, letting Steve anchor him with his palm on Billy's sweaty neck. His cock is still mostly hard between them. Billy's knuckles almost brush it on his upstrokes.

Billy wants to ask Harrington to suck him. He thinks Harrington would. He looks like he would, mouth open as he watches, like he’s waiting for Billy to give it to him. But there's no time. Billy's been waiting too long. Just looking at Steve's wet cock and thinking about his mouth on Billy's makes Billy come. 

It's short and hard, a swell of heat rushing over Billy. He makes some kind of noise but he doesn't know what, still jerking. There's nowhere for his come to go but on Harrington: his thighs, his cock, the visible bottom of his belly. Steve moans when it hits him. Billy wonders if it's as hot as he feels. 

He lets go of his cock while it's still twitching; he can't handle it anymore. He reaches out for Harrington instead, struck by the messy sight of him. Although he’s dying to, he doesn't touch Harrington's cock, knows they'll never get out of here if he does. Instead, he goes for Harrington’s shaky thighs and his heaving belly.

"Jesus Christ," Billy groans, overwhelmed, meaning _Harrington_. He touches the spatters of his come on Harrington, smearing it over the hot, red marks left on his skin from the hole, where Steve pressed so hard because he wanted it so badly.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me softly yelling into the void on tumblr [here](https://crushcandles.tumblr.com/).


End file.
